Smoke
by Orpah
Summary: When Hong Kong sees England smoking, he remembers China... Rated T for implied drug abuse. Oneshot


I have to write more with Hong Kong and England, I don't know why! But I hope you enjoy it anyway!

I don't own Hetalia! end /AN/

Hong Kong was nestled in one of the chairs with a book he couldn't possibly understand, and England sat in the other, smoking his pipe. Every so often, Hong Kong would glance over at him, but say nothing. England wondered what was wrong with the boy, or if the boy thought something was wrong with him, but he didn't feel like breaking the comfortable silence.

Finally, however, it was too much for Hong Kong, and he closed his book, walking over tentatively to wave his hand in front of England's face. England's brow creased in confusion as he gently batted Hong Kong's fingers away from his face. "What are you doing now?"

Hong Kong blinked. "What your name?" he asked with a thick accent. England's confusion increased. Surely Hong Kong hadn't already forgotten his name? He had been with him for a while now... Maybe he was sick?

"Doesn't remember?" Hong Kong guessed when he got no reply. There was something strangely akin to sympathy in his eyes, and England winced a little at the butchering of his language, but didn't mention it. Instead, he responded with, "What is wrong with you? Of course I know my own name, it's England!"

Hong Kong raised his eyebrows. "But your smoke?" England sighed, placing his head in his hands. What could him smoking possibly have to do with him forgetting his own-

Oh. China.

He realised that Hong Kong had probably seen the addiction that China had to opium, but he had probably never seen tobacco. So he would assume England was smoking drugs.

England looked back down at Hong Kong, who was still looking intently back up at him. For a moment, he felt guilty about getting China addicted to opium if only because he'd inadvertently exposed Hong Kong to it...

But that faded away when Hong Kong poked him in the face and said, "You sultan you okay?" England patted Hong Kong on the head. "It's _certain_, not sultan. And yes, I'm fine. This is called tobacco. It's not like opium, okay?"

Hong Kong seemed satisfied, for he nodded and settled back down with his book. England let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He also settled back in his chair, puffing away at his pipe.

A small lapse of time passed, and a letter arrived for England. The contents were fairly typical- a rude letter from France, scented rose. This one demanded that he cede several south Asian nations to him, and it incensed England greatly.

"That idiot!" he snapped, tearing up the letter furiously and throwing in the fire. Hong Kong watched this vigorous display with alarm. "Stupid git!" England spit on the fire, as if to add insult to injury. He turned around, grumbling, as he got back into his seat.

He felt a sudden prodding at his elbow.

"Not like opium.. Make angry?" England sighed impatiently. "No, Hong Kong, it does not make me angry. Letters from France make me angry. Tobacco has no effect on me."

Hong Kong looked uncertain, poking England's arm again. "You're angry." England nodded. "Yes, but not because of the tobacco, because of France."

Hong Kong shook his head, apparently pretty sure about his theory. "No. You shouldn't have." And before England could respond, Hong Kong snatched his pipe and ran out of the room, most likely to hide somewhere. England gaped for a moment, then stood up angrily.

"Hong Kong! You bring that back here this instant! I mean it!" He stormed after him, heading for the most likely place Hong Kong would hide: the kitchen. Lots of cupboards and nooks to hide in, after all.

He slammed open a cupboard, finding it mostly empty. "Hong Kong! Come out this second!" He moved on to the next cupboard, finding that one to be empty as well.

"Hong Kong!" America had never done this. Sure, he'd done a lot of crazy things, but he _supplied_ him with more tobacco, rather than snatching his pipe!

It was then he noticed a wisp of smoke coming out from the cabinet. He walked over to the door of it, and slung it open. He was met with a pair of wide brown eyes.

Hong Kong covered his head, still clutching the pipe. "Hong Kong! What the devil made you do that?! Here, give it back!" England held out his hand expectantly.

Hong Kong stared back, tears beading up in the corners of his eyes. "I don't want you get hurt!" he blurted. England looked startled. "Hurt? What are you talking about? It's not going to hurt me, Hong Kong."

Hong Kong nodded insistently. "Everybody hurt you when smoke!" He was starting to cry now, having very vivid memories of China getting invaded while under the influence.

England sighed. How could he explain this to him? He reached out, placing his hand on Hong Kong's head. "Hong Kong.... I'm not just like China, okay? I'm not going to get invaded like that, I'm stronger."

Hong Kong sniffled, looking up at him. "You sultan?"

Resisting the urge to correct Hong Kong, he slipped his arm underneath Hong Kong to pick him up. "Yes, I'm certain. Nothing's going to happen to me, and I'll make sure nothing happens to you either, okay?"

Hong Kong nodded hesitantly, tucking England's pipe into his vest pocket. "Sorry..."

"It's okay."

/AN/ Yay for angsty Hong Kong! It's too bad England was wrong... I hope everyone could understand Hong Kong's broken English... Leave reviews if you enjoyed it!


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